Prisoner 619B?
by bones-son
Summary: What if being in the same sort of cell as the one he was in in season 7 made Wash think he was back there again?


He looked up at the gray sky. Man, it was gray. He'd never seen such a gray sky before.

_How did I get here?_

Oh yeah…there'd been a war. The memories hit him like a load of bricks. Getting shot, falling, the aqua soldier…_what was his name?..._Tucker calling out to him, screaming for him to follow. Telling the robot to shake, and then blackness.

Who was he? His name…it was David. No, no it wasn't. _"Your name is Washington now, soldier. Agent Washington,_" a voice with a southern drawl.

That was right. He was a freelancer.

He blinked up at the sky. This place was sure familiar…

He tore his eyes away and looked around. He lay propped up against a wall. He was behind bars.

_Oh my God._

It couldn't be.

He tried to stand up in his horror, but gasped as he finally realized that his side hurt like hell. He looked down at his bloodied armour. He could see through the hole of the bullet that is was dressed…poorly. Like someone with nothing but first aid knowledge had tried to patch up his bullet wound.

He tried to get comfortable again against the wall. His cell faced a gray wall. He was surrounded by gray.

He choked on his panic.

_This isn't the same place, it's not, it can't be. Look, you have a bullet wound. That wasn't there before._

_Yes it was. I got shot by Maine. This is the same place._

_You were shot in the chest before. This one is in your side._

He couldn't bring himself to believe that it wasn't the same place. It looked exactly the same.

_Oh my God. No no no no no no no no._

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into his hands.

He couldn't of imagined all of it, could he of? All the Reds and Blues, they'd been his friends. He'd spoke to them. He'd taken Church's armour colour. He'd gone on that adventure to find the Director with Carolina. He'd trained Tucker. He'd sacrificed himself for them.

_What if they're like Alison? What if they're not my memories?_

_Shut up shut up just shut up._

_What if?_

Doubt consumed him. He was painfully reminded of his time in the psychiatric ward. Being burdened with Epsilon's memories, screaming in pain, being restrained by doctors and nurses. Being unable to tell the difference between Epsilon's memories and his own. Had he been the one whose mother's hair was red? Had he kissed that girl in tenth grade? He had no way of knowing how, and it was like being stranded in the middle of a raging sea with nothing to hold onto.

He suddenly felt that awful way again. Had they been his friends? Or had he made them up?

You're sane, they'd told him. Article 12 has been uncertified.

Had they lied to him?

The pain in his side increased. It felt like fire creeping up his body. He couldn't breathe, it was like his lungs had closed up and they were burning, burning with that insistent fire. He was panicking. He tried to calm down, tried to find concrete evidence that there was no way he'd made them up. He couldn't.

_My armour. I changed it to blue._

He looked down at himself. His armour wasn't blue. It was gray, gray as the walls surrounding him. His hope flickered out and he felt the panic bubbling up in his chest again.

He crumpled onto the floor of his cell and double up, screaming.

"Hey, whoa! Wash, is that you?" A voice rang out to his left. It was familiar…who did it belong to? One of the reds—Sarge.

"Shut up!" Wash cried. "Shut up!"

"What's going on? I can't see—where are you? Is everything okay?"

"You're not real! Shut up!" why did it have to plague him like that, trying to talk to him?

"What? What's happening?"

He couldn't take it. It was Epsilon all over again. He was still prisoner 619B. He'd never redeemed himself.

He screamed as loudly as his lungs would allow, trying to drown out his thoughts.

He barely heard the cell door opening, or felt the light blue soldier grab his shoulders.

"You idiots!" her voice was warbled. "What did I tell you? Get something to calm him down!" he heard muffled footsteps running away.

"Hey, Wash, you gotta get a hold of yourself." Her voice was gentle, but it seemed far away. "You remember me, I'm real, right?"

_I don't know. How can I know?_

He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness even as the blue armoured soldier began to hum and stroke his hair.

**A/N: Okay so this isn't my favourite story I've written ever...but I've decided to upload it anyway. I really don't think any thing like this will actually happen in season 12, but its an idea I had anyway. Also I like to imagine that Carolina is going to be a good guy somehow in season 12. And I feel like she still slightly has that older sister relationship with Wash. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


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